Change
by Daastan Go
Summary: She was a glorious one to alter the history of all Shinobi Men!


**Change**

 **Disclaimer** : Naruto is Kishimoto's property. I'm not making any money from this story.

 **Warning** : Morbid Content, Violence, and Language. Reader discretion is advised.

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Uchiha men could not induce sleep they so desired. Many a moonless night was spent in the idle pursuit of locating the cores of their pleasures. Once proud stalwart men of Uchiha mores, they had now been reduced to snivelling boys, huddled beneath kakebutons, bodies shivering, shewing the spirit's convalescence.

Outside, a sheen-covered forest invited the damp to permeate deep into the wood, fester, and facilitate the growth of fungi. Mushroom heads grew on the leaning, rotting barks, often.

Inside, something penetrated their bones—lively flesh ambled to a hard disposition to wear pearls right atop the tight crowns. Streamlets of a cold rain were not enough to melt the fevers rising in their loins. They had tasted the scents and breathed in the air discharged by the (artificial) pink cunnie.

And their hearts' oscillations followed the whiff of its bewitching, womanly odours. Thawing the cold that clove to their chambers, it filled their black hearts with an adoration of a different philosophy—it was truly a miracle from the Sage!

Nature's dastardly machinations wrought a _change_ this time: a Queen, a true mistress for passions, was amongst mortal men. Hiruzen had been perplexed to solve the dilemma of Uchiha coup; proud warriors never bent their knees before men of politics. Shameful, and he knew better not to incur their wrath; but what to do in such a dire situation? Time was dropping away faster than his bollocks.

His loud heart triumphed where that silent tongue failed: Sakura had passed by _that_ boy's garden one morning to ask his little sibling, Sasuke, for an intense frottage-session. The boy most beautiful, naturally, had refused.

Hiruzen remembered last time when he espied them in his crystal-ball: Sakura removed her cotton sheath, not caring for Sasuke to remove his shorts, and ground her wet cunt, rather fervently, against the idle and limp cock of the Uchiha boy through his thick cotton shorts, trying desperately to lock her greedy mouth together with his. Puberty hit her early and too hard; the supposed nymphet was still only twelve, after all. The boy was still eleven—he had to wait for his green loins to ripen through the heat of another summer—maybe two.

She told him that she felt funny down there when she looked at him odd. "I feel like I want to pee, ya know?" she confided in him under the shades of spring leaves and fiddled with the button on his shorts. Then she removed her pink underwear and, between her pig-pink pussy and the under-garment, showed him that one big love strand. She had stolen a book on copulation from the Medic-Office and was curious to see the thing that would fit tightly into her cunt.

Irritated by her audacity, the boy smacked the back of her head, a gesture which made her ears ring, but that did not dissuade her from her goals and wild attempts to mate with him; so she mounted his thighs and swayed back and forth, back and forth, loving the movement that created friction between their genitals.

"Stop that!" he protested and tried to push her off his thighs. He did not want to hit the poor girl too hard; and she was such a feisty one—she truly and generously soiled his knee-length trousers, grunting and braying, rocking like a hairless little piglet with such rhythmic pulsations that a heated blush (and in such an old age, too!) blistered across Hiruzen's sagged cheeks. What was he wasting his last years on—a developing rutting session between two young 'uns? How shameful!

At the end of that one-sided stimulation, she gushed forth copious amount of fluids on his shorts. The innocent boy made an odd face in answer, said she smelt funny, called her an annoyance, and walked away, utterly horrified. Red surged up from her bosom, flooding her cheeks, and she wept, whining: "I love you. I don't want my parents—fuck them! If you're not in my life, then I've got no one. Come back and fuck me, Sasuke! Fuck me hard!"

Ah, so relentless, the crazed little (plain as a reed) nymph. She snuck her way to the shore of a lake by the Uchiha brothers' village again, gushing between her thighs, hot in pursuit of the boy—to mount, to rut, to cum! But to her displeasure, the older one was there. He had been appointed by Hiruzen in hopes of altering his mind to win this unwinnable war. It was still feebly tangled in the snarl of Uchiha philosophy.

A moon appeared and made sparkle the dews on Itachi's skin. Sakura's eyes grew wide at the spectacle. They were akin to two greedy orbs on a preying-mantis's crown. He was the spitting image of Sasuke—only a little older. Her gaze strayed lower and it clenched between her legs like a deathly flytrap: _Oi, Oi, he's bigger, too!_ She wanted to scream!

Quickly, she ran over to his side and pressed herself along the front of him and beseeched him to fuck her brains out. "I'm not wearing any undies!" she confessed, grinning and swaying in heat. Then she reached down, bunched the skirt in her hands, and pulled it up to her breast to show him her engorged lips and a gob of mucus dangling from the fleshes. There were no curves to her waist, nor a flare to her hips; the pronounced arc of her rib-cage, along with the pebbled nipples there that decorated a child's breast (she hath no breasts), made her look like a castrated little boy without a dangling set of a toddler's fist-sized bollocks. Hiruzen caressed his beard, thinking, _this could be interesting!_

He was not all that surprised by Itachi's swift-as-a-weasel reaction: the boy had been fucking quite diligently ever since he turned seven (his _Hokage Wisdom_ danced goodly in his cock). He was not very choosy; and what man (boy) would deny a free foo-foo? He pushed her down onto the leaf covered ground, draped her spindly legs over his shoulders, drove straight into the dark recesses of her fud.

A mélange of sensations enveloped her: she screamed, back arching to take all of him in. Their bodies vibrated and sparse moonlight shined upon the sweat—blinking illuminations. Itachi was a ruthless warrior, his thrusts precise and calculated and powerful, that she came undone in moments.

Tidal-waves of cum flowed into the tight firth of her pleasures. It rushed out the sides, soiling her buttocks, flowing to the wrinkled skin (adorned with few coarse stray hairs) around her anus; and she writhed, throwing her head from side to side, splashing sweat everywhere. Itachi wanted to grab hold of her tit, but it was a flat expanse of a level-battlefield there. Unfortunate!

He drew out, panting, looked upon the big strand of fate between them—tying cock and cunt. True Love. True Will. True . . . Hokage? And it struck the back of his mind like the disease-riddled rat's blow to his prick, and something blinked on inside his head: Hiruzen was right!

Quite suddenly, he spoke, peering at the gliding colours of afterglow in her eyes and the good dicking he had _just_ given her: "Hokage-Sama is right. I have to change our people or kill them for the village. Sasuke's also a menace. He will truly fail me in the coming chapters of Kishimoto's terrible manga. I have to break open the fourth-wall and fuck you, a cheap Sakura-wanker's imitation, daily, so that I can transcend above family and bonds. Who needs them? That is the only way!" He narrowed his eyes, long lashes folding over his red eyes. He had awoken a Mangekyō Sharingan whilst they were joined together in a holy union of love! His tears were of love, not hate!

A feeling of love came across his heart as she struggled with the divine stimulation from his hard cock in one hand and her cunt in the other. Hiruzen was struck dumb: Will of Fire, change, and neo-liberal progressive-ism lay inside the _nice-girl_ twat of Haruno Sakura? Unthinkable!

It was as though a man, a shady character, was meant to put his penis in, slow and steady, cause a _friction_ of change, and by the time he drew it out, he was a different man! _Holy Sage's Holiest Bollocks!_ This was an unprecedented find! The boy's locution was sweet and it regaled his ears—his moans had, too. Sakura was a _Queen_ for the masses, unleashed upon them unto their deaths.

The beautiful boy of seventeen (a budding flower of Leaf) came to Hiruzen, skin replete with the odours of sex, and told him of his loyalty to the village and her people. Then he went away, porked her under the stars again, professing true love, bad-mouthing his wicked brother, and calling his mother foul names. Such a _change_ was . . . ghastly, Hiruzen had to confess.

So Hiruzen gazed deep into his crystal-ball every night, curved his loose hand around his looser cock, and enjoyed the spectacle of free moving-scroll pornography and carnal interludes; but something hefty and hot buggered his mind, like the Uchiha boy did in his drippy dreams: Itachi had an air of a despondent boy about him when _Queen_ was not around; he soiled his pants during sleep, too, hoping to locate that heavenly puss—a Totsuka-Blade extending from his slumbering cock—with a resigned look of a blue-pilled faggot; her pussy was his _Truest_ liberator!

Deep into the secrets of her cum-crapper, Itachi found a sense of freedom—with her, he had learnt to love again (learnt to _kill_ _your heroes_ and cook like his mum!); and Hiruzen learnt that her cooter-pooter was an easy genre-and-canon-character alteration mechanism all by itself: a multi-purpose appliance for a true metamorphosis!

A crooked-toothed smile lifted his free-hanging jowls and blushed upon his face. Then he gave his trembling hairy-hooter a little jerk and released a thin string, barely discernible in the dim light and gloom, satisfied with his plan to save Konoha, Uchiha, and the entire world!

The very next day, after cleaning himself of his own filth, Hiruzen announced an unwonted decree: _Queen's_ pussy was to be duplicated by the Medic-Division and mass produced within a week. The order was perplexing, but it had to be done! Sasuke raised sensible questions surrounding the odd decision, which earned him a good rib-cracking beating from the dervish-lover, Itachi: it was not permissible to speak ill of his _Queen_ , Sakura, before Itachi. She was his one true love, to infinity and beyond, after all.

Kakashi was called back from his duty to test the best meat-sleeve (from the Medic-Division) that came packed with a free mask. He had left behind his back a trail of corpses and limbs, puffs of ice-cool winds, too. The man was an inspiration (and a truly complex character for a blithering anime-lover's lofty tastes!) for lonely-wankers and mums that dwelt in the dark corners of crooked homes and had lovely, pimple-dotted faces and pot-bellies filled with communal wisdom.

As the week passed, funds were poured into the development of colourful cunt-types for men of all ages and sizes. They created plans to export it beyond the borders and cure tumorous diseases and extend the sphere of this wonderful philanthropic venture. Onoki complained of hip pains, but a Lolita's pussy was always a welcoming affair; and when he got one at last, he broke his barely-available pee-wee's crown whilst trying to struggle his way inside its artificial warmth. His willy was done . . .

 _Finally_ , on the fateful day of Sakura Festival, it was released into the markets with outstanding results. People rushed into shops, crushing competition in the benign lights of spring's sun. They sold purple and red coloured ones for five bronze coins with Shurikens; and ' _buy one and get one free for the whole family_ ' fidget-spinner types were given away with Kiddy Ramen-Meals: _spin it or put your dong inside; it only does everything!_ Ichiraku-Ramen guy's business truly took off.

As days passed by and tides came crashing onto the summer's shores and smells of ripening fruits filled the balmy wind, Sasuke, too, started to experience the lights radiating from Sakura's Uchiha-cum-splashing loos. Itachi killed half his clan (who refused to buy into the cultural-fad of spinning home-friendly cunts—pun-intended), and turned into a _Sakura's-queef whisperer_ he had; but the fidget-spinner pussy, spinning around Sasuke's growing pipe, told him to let go . . . let go. It was a low echo that stretched long into a sweet song of love that squeezed out of the depths of Sakura's cunt as a sputtering queef, which foretold of whimpering and hideous bastard boys; and so began his tale of redemption; he had overcome the Uchiha ' _curse of hatred'_ , like Itachi before him, at last! All shinobis used such in-depth, soul-searching mechanisms. It was a multi-purpose appliance of glory.

And as wars drew near, pussy-fidget-spinners were exchanged over rotten corpses and bloody gristles to avert calamity and despair. Uchiha and Senju patriarchs watched the contraptions spinning on vibrating pee-pees from the heavens in envy, and then, with even more envy: if only _Queen_ could get transported into the past—she would alter the landscape of history with wide-open, dripping thighs; and her stink-soaked cooter of glory that awaited their cocks sitting plump upon the heavy bollocks . . . _a stitch in time_ (saves nine) was just a Time-Travel Genre-Fan-Fiction away!

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Their hearts synced to the heated pace of their hands' motions; they thudded a beautiful cadence in their breasts. Itachi stroked little Sakura's head, and wavy hung her pink locks on the nape; his caresses, smooth and soft, increasing the rate that she drifted off to sleep.

Wandering lower, his hand curved upon the bloated belly—a thirtieth one was on the way. Popped out nine at a time she had, a robust thing that put a fat and angry sow in a sty to shame. Sadly, only five survived as they raced through the slick channel towards the radiance of her front-pooter's empyrean door. A soft sigh passed his lips: there would be another time.

 _Still_ , he was content with the hybrid monstrosities that scuttled and stalked about the matted floors of his house—with hideous pink bristles for hair and green Sharingans for eyes—and made fidget-spinner _zig-zig_ sounds in their throats' depths when they got famished enough to suckle her nine teats. Little monsters, they shared their mother's mad zeal for white substances!

He buried his nose in her hair, and a nerve-slitting scent of flowers, one found in loo-cleaning detergents, filled his nostrils. Then his hands went higher, mapping the contours of her body, and cupped her corpulent breasts. His hands filled with them to the full—motherhood _finally_ bestowed upon her the shape of a ripe woman, which was the reason why he always kept her round and plump. He could not say he enjoyed moulding his body into the bony form of a girl that approximated a boy's, who had not had the experience of growing one stray curl of youth on his ball-sack.

Now, her sweet demeanour and womanly fullness attracted every eye. He strained his head, casting a shadow upon a cheek mounted by a vermeil that softened into a dimmer shade. Then he directed his gaze to the window and watched a mist from rain spray the trees. Spring had come early and trees were abloom with Sakura flowers.

Then a slopping sound came from the other side of the bed, and a frown crossed Itachi's face that assumed an annoyed expression. He sat upright, spine straight like Sakura's legs (in air) when he fucked her in heat, and stared at Sasuke petting his cock—his countenance appeared almost bored.

Sasuke had bickered with him that the second batch of children was his! His brilliant Hokage mind did not understand his stubbornness: all of them perished and none remained; and it was not as though the possibility of sharing between brothers was an unthinkable prospect. She was their _'one true-love!_ '; her fanny-bogger, a sanctuary where their bodies had located a much-coveted state of Nirvana.

Their hearts, too, thrummed lovely tunes, their strings and their bones, mortal instruments of music in her hands. When the three of them mated and gave forth rutting noises under the effulgent moon and amidst tall, rustling grass (with its own melodies), red was in their gaze, their faces fraught with lust. They cummed and poured their filth into her well-used frontal bum-wad, as all men did in fidget-spinners, copiously, a thrall to her cunt and charms.

A _change_ had begun! Konoha's soil had cast up the bones of an ugly past right at the twisting curls that decorated and wormed out of the seam between her buttocks. The village was a pretty kingdom that belied such evil and ugly forms. Upon the foothold of joys in her twat, a precipice of a violent metamorphosis, lay the fate of their clan—their world— _all_ Fan-Fictions!

A light played softly on her form and glided along her ethereal beauty _every_ mad-man could fathom, but not deny. Her dewy lips parted open, in search of their arousals, issuing forth such vulgar calls for copulation, her body shaking with spasmodic vibrations: it was in dire need of bloated Uchiha pissers! Rain stopped and sweet was wind's song in their ears. It roused their wild beasts and vibrated with silent falsettos between their thighs; and both bothers gave a silent nod of agreement: a next batch was on its way, and it mattered not to whom it belonged, as it would surely _change_ the future as they knew it—

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Anon, the tale of _Change_ came to an end. People made obeisances to the _Queen_ who alighted on the projecting hillocks, to the music of the drums, and to the tragic monstrosities she had ejected from her vile hairy-fud: children with curls of pink upon the white brows and with Sharingans green in the eyes. (Uchiha _Curse of Hatred_ was purged by her lasting infection, at long last!)

Wind, cool and sweet, wafted her cunt's rancid vapours round the mountains and bewitched men; and she sang with a koto in her hands, plucking the thin strings to enchant men and their puds. When the season of spring came, she sat down in her temple, beneath the Sakura tree in full bloom, to invite Uchihas for an open-season of fucking and buggering! They all flocked to the gates, with countenances crazed, eyes red, rutters stone-hard.

Then nine chosen ones stood obediently in a line, and each man ploughed her till his seed swam in _just_ right and filled up one of her empty wombs: a miracle from the Sage—she had grown nine of them inside her belly (each a sanctuary, a cradle of life, for a new Uchiha bastard)!

Many competed each year in showers of silver light, with hands on pommels of deadly swords. They felled brothers, sons, and fathers in arcs of vivid red, _just_ to shove their weapons into her moist wound. They fought every inch inside her and wanted for her cunt to milk them to their last drops, in hopes of changing the _very_ nature of their bastard broods!

Often, Sasuke and Itachi did _educational_ demonstrations before men and maidens and babes to treat the _Queen_ right—acknowledge her hard work and diligence in preaching the just course of their Clan's future (the manga, too often, neglected her genius!), in long and dramatic monologues that seldom had any place in prose; and as their pipes swelled up and spewed their fluids inside her darkest cum-dunny (they did _everything_ together for the good of their people!), the semen jetted so thickly and powerfully and divinely!

And when they slid out, a blessed river of their ejaculations flooded the temple's reflective floor. . . leaving everyone in awe. Many Uchiha girls developed Sharingans in such delicate moments of rapture, their hearts thumping in adoration of their future (Peak-Capitalism white-feminist) role-model, their Queen!

So one day, a rift opened (out of the buggering blue!), and Queen went back into the past to fall into the big and strong arms of the Clans' Patriarchs. Indra had never tasted the love her meat-flappers could draw out of his dead-stone heart. She melted the frost inside his breast, too, and he became a whelp who was always at her heels—slobbering and yipping and scratching.

She offered pussy-fidget-spinners to Ashura, who had never so much as touched his winkle ever since he grew coarse curls on his balls; and whose life-granting wood (pun-intended) never experienced a fit so tight; he sent his wife to her in-laws under the spell of the enchanting _ziz-zig_ sounds the pussy-fidget-spinner made!

In the end, they saluted her with smiles and applause as she descended down the stairs of the sacred temple, which they erected in her honour, with a belly so bulbous that it was the size of a mountain sow! Elated, Ashura aimed his cock at her feet and loosened a sticky string of love; but Sakura slipped, tumbled down the stairs head over feet, crashed upon the marble floor in a sickening and gooey splatter of mushy bastard children, critically fermenting semen, and remains of whole nine wombs!

Instantly, Indra developed Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan at the sight of such carnage (Kishimoto and canon got this detail _slightly_ wrong!); his heart screamed in his breast in an unending agony, his chakra roaring like beasts. Ashura's wood shivered inside his pants, and eyeing the squishy fetuses' grimy-paste spread over the floor in gooey-bits, the siblings' fleshes ambled and rose from their thighs, as well—and then they duelled with their ying-yangs. They had not lost these _bastard-things in the fire_ this time!

Alas, the Sage of Paths (counted) Six felt remorse over the fate of the girl with wombs nine. Her spirit went floating up from her desecrated corpse (Ashura accidentally urinated on her remains when a well-aimed and much-strong punch from Indra landed straight into his gut!) and went to him and became the third Yomi-bound _Ōtsutsuki_ spirit! (No one treated the Queen and her potential right! No one!)

She inhabited girls like an ill-omened spirit from beyond, turned their hair pink, lusted for Uchiha and Senju cocks (mostly Uchiha cocks) whilst she still cooed and shitted and farted in her cradle; she broke through the stone-bricks of fourth-walls and possessed diminutive, lonely girls and mums in the same manner, often—such horrors! At last, she found the Haruno Clan, which was never truly a clan, and was reborn as Haruno Sakura; and it was déjà vu all over again . . .

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 **EN** : Ying-Yang is a slang for the penis; Rat, an animal slang for the vagina.

 **The End**


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